Koenma's Closet
by LadyBow8
Summary: For inexplicable reasons, Koenma seduces, bribes, or convinces everyone in the series to have sex with him.
1. Chapter 1 - Kurama

Koenma's Closet

A YYH crack-fic series by Yours Truly  
Chapter 1: Kurama

A soft, peaceful smile drifted from her lips as Shiori fell into a nap. She was wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, with a half-drunk cup of tea by her side, and her son in the adjacent chair. Kurama slapped the book closed that he had been reading to her and smiled with more than a little wist. He wished it was that easy for _him_ to fall asleep.

It was even more of a feat that she had done so with a constant patter and howl echoing throughout the house as heaping gusts of wind and bullets of rain slathered the windows. As he stood up to peer out to the streets, he caught his reflection in the glass. He was sure anyone would say he looked good but by his own personal standards he was feeling awfully shabby lately. Shabby, and lonely.

The Dark Tournament would commence in two weeks, and he'd had no one to turn to about it, emotionally. I mean, not really. Yusuke was like a spooked horse – the last thing he needed was his rock quivering on him. Sure, Kazuma had trained with Kurama for a while, but at the expense of his other commitments, and unlike Yusuke he had some loose ends to tie before he was off to "summer camp" or whatever his excuse was.

And Hiei? Well, he was as aloof as ever and wouldn't put out. Not only was Kurama in blue spirits, but his balls had followed suit.

" _I buy him new clothes and this is the gratitude he shows,"_ he thought, crossing his legs and frowning. _"I need something to pick me up."_

* * *

He tried not to roll his eyes when the clunky, pretentious, gold-painted chair at Koenma's desk swiveled around, and an equally pretentious toddler addressed him with a heavy frown and tented fingers. "What do you want?" For Kurama, nothing but a cocked brow seemed the right response to such brazenness. "Igh, look, I would pretend like I'm happy to see you, but I'm up to my eyeballs here."

"Aren't you always?"

"I'll ask you again what you want," Koenma pushed through his teeth. He had hoped to stall with a bit more bickering, but Kurama was faced with a humbling admission. He sighed.

"As you know, our circumstances will become quite harrowing, possibly lethal, in the weeks to come. I'm not only lacking a strength of resolve, but a worthy solace, and with the other members of my team preparing in their own ways, it seems I will need to find it elsewhere. Perhaps in manner of material-"

"What in all possible worlds are you _talking about_?!" Koenma shrieked, as though Kurama had started on something truly scandalous.

"Rumor has it you have a fine collection of garments stowed away here, and I'm more than a bit curious."

"Wait a minute – you want to see... my... private? Fashion line?" Koenma wiggled his eyebrows between each word. Suddenly, he didn't seem all that busy. In fact, he threw all of his papers off the desk and crawled towards Kurama over it.

"W-w-well, I don't want to make any commitments just yet but I _am_ in want of something new. Something dignified for battle and, perhaps... dignified for death."

"Say no more! You've described my work to the letter. _Dignified for battle, dignified for death!_ " He swooped his arms above his head, which only reached to about crotch level for Kurama. "I should have that carved into a plaque or something."

" _As long as I'm paid my due royalties..."_ Kurama muttered before he felt his fingers squeezed.

"COME ON! We don't have any time to waste!" They caught Botan entering the room with her eyebrows all the way up to her hairline as they were leaving. Try as she may to smile at Kurama, her boss trampled over an explanation. "Botan, cancel all my shit. I'm busy."

"Sir, it's really not stuff I can cancel!"

"Then have Jorge sit in on it!"

Kurama would have been more offended that that was the way things were handled around there, but he never had much faith in him to begin with. And besides, this had been a lot easier than he thought.

As they descended floor after floor, and Koenma punched in access key after access key, Kurama was astounded. If security had been this tight for the three sacred artifacts, they may not have found them in time. They finally reached the end of a long hallway, where Koenma sniffed around, puckering his pacifier in and out. He stopped at a random spot on the wall. "Ah, here we go," he said before he karate-chopped it and a key fell out of a slot in the ceiling. Once he knelt down to pick it up, he turned to face Kurama, holding the key like a dainty feather in his tiny, little vienna-sausage hands. "It just didn't feel safe enough, carrying this around on my person. They might find out what it was for, and my whole cover would be blown." Kurama could only nod. He felt like he was in a fucking video game all of a sudden.

"Now, what you're about to see might shock you. But you've _got_ to promise to keep it to yourself! Do you understand?" Kurama nodded with his brow furrowed, which Koenma considered good enough, so he lead him to a snack machine that was just randomly around the corner. When he put the key into a random slot beside the button for Strawberry-Apricot Snapple, the whole display opened up like a door. Kurama's eyes were now bulging out of his head, but he was not going to waste time hesitating.

He stepped through the threshold. Inside was some mixture of a walk-in closet and a dry-cleaners. There were multiple floors, swinging ladders for hard to reach shelves, full vanity mirrors, and candelabras. Smooth jazz was emanating from unseen speakers. When Kurama looked up, the ceiling was even a mirror, in case he wasn't sure how good he looked from a bird's eye view. "Tell me Kurama~... Were there rumors about _this_?" Koenma had climbed up onto a table and was sprawled Hollywood style beside a tray of chocolates, from which he had plucked a single Herschey's kiss and waved it in front of him. Kurama frowned. Little did Koenma know, it was from jealousy. "What, you're not _impressed?_ "

"I... I-It is something. Well, what do you think would be good for me?"

"Hm... that's a fair question. Well, nothing on this level. This is all for sprouts. Come, come upstairs!" Koenma launched himself towards a spiral staircase leading up to a balcony. Kurama sighed and followed him with heavy, possibly pouty steps.

He couldn't pout for long. The walls were lined with divine suits and sashes, hats, gloves, and canes. There was even a mask or two for those extra mischievous days. Kurama was usually very good at keeping his hands to himself, but – "UGH! I've never seen anything so–"

"Luxurious?" Instead of answering, Kurama flicked vigorously through the selections, his eyes hungry for all that sweet eye candy, his fingers so starved for decent textures. "Yeahhh, well, I decided I needed some new clothes, since I won't be the same size anymore," Koenma said all casually from behind him. Confused, Kurama turned around, only to find him propped against an alcove, and... immediately six feet tall.

"Koenma?" He asked, not sure if he'd been cat-fished or something. A young man was standing in front of him, wearing the same shade of azure, with the same impish twinkle in his eye.

"HmmMMm?" He answered, muffled still by the pacifier, which now looked remarkably odd beside such mature features. Kurama knew he'd better say something, and he could usually pull words like rabbits out of a hat, but today he was patting desperately for nothing. "What, you've never seen someone go through puberty in ten seconds?"

"Can't say that I have," Kurama answered.

"Well, just goes to show the sophistication of my spirit power." It was clear by the way Koenma sought out a mirror and posed beside Kurama that he thought he was hot shit. "Hey, we don't look too bad for a thousand years old."

Kurama was not going to admit he was kind of attractive like that, so he pretended their hips hadn't grazed and got back to searching the clothes. "Now, what color is it, you'd like? I think you'd look good in yellow," he heard over his shoulder, in a deeper voice than he was used to. "Nice, cheery, fresh, and springy."

"Does that sound like me, to you?"

"Well..." Koenma trailed. As Kurama stopped to admire a tunic as glimmering yellow as the glaze on a lemon meringue pie, Koenma reached around from behind him to hold up the hip of the garment. As he did so, a lock of Kurama's hair curled around his chin. "Fresh and springy, yes." He let the garment fall back into place and rested his hand on Kurama's waist. "You like that one don't you? You could always...try it on." Kurama was not oblivious to what was going on. He snapped around to face him and unknowingly whipped all of his hair in his face. "You know... I'm getting awfully thirsty for one of those Snapples right about now."

"Koenma! Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Seduce you?" He seemed ever-so shocked by the accusation before his eyes narrowed. I daresay, his expression almost had the outwitting sharpness of a kitsune, for a moment. "Why would I need to seduce you here? This entire room is like one giant hard-on." It was true, Kurama realized. It _was_ a giant hard-on, poking at his ass with fervor. Koenma leaned close enough to mingle their bangs and asked in a haughty whisper: "Tell me, Kurama, have you ever stolen Venetian silk?"

" _Venetian?"_ Kurama whispered back. With haste, Koenma seized his hands and pulled him towards a wooden drawer.

"Reach in. You can _kill me_ if it doesn't feel like you're plunging into a bowl of whipped... icy-cool... pudding' _uh._ " Kurama didn't even think. He wanted to feel the pudding, and he was not disappointed. Koenma might have even seen his "oh" face.

"I-I won't have to kill you." Suddenly, he realized what he was touching and gasped. _"You make male lingerie?"_ Koenma leaned towards his face again to answer:

" _Of course."_

" _Ogh,_ _ **please**_ _tell me it's for sale,"_ Kurama moaned, eyes half closed.

" _Oh, it_ _ **is.**_ _"_

" _Yesssssss."_

" _But I don't know..."_ Suddenly, Kurama's eyes popped open. "The price might be too high, even for you."

"Try me," Kurama demanded, grabbing a fist full of his collar. A playful chuckle spilled past Koenma's lips.

"We'll make our negotiations once you've seen it all, Kurama. Don't get so hasty."

"You _make_ me hasty!" He growled.

"I can't be having a fox running amok in here. _Contain yourself._ What about the Italian spandex?" The feral vitriol building in Kurama's gaze began to dissipate. "You don't _know_... about Italian _spandex?_ "

And so he showed him the Italian spandex, and it was glorious. "If I fought in this, there's no way I'd lose," Kurama said more to himself. Before he could fall down a rabbit hole of pleasure in his own head, Koenma pulled him back.

"No doubt, it's a thick layer of mojo, but Kurama, you deserve even better." He lead him to a mystery fabric, in the form of a jump suit. Together, they smoothed its soft delicate sleeves. It was so simple, yet so sophisticated.

"What is this?" Kurama asked, trying and failing to mask his desperation.

"In Turkmenistan, this fabric, this very material we have in our hands is only purchased by the richest of brides for their wedding nights. Imagine wearing it: wedding night sheets, gliding and TIT-illatinggg your skin as you rose-whip demon trailer-trash into bite-size bits."

" _I want to do that..."_ Kurama admitted in a gasp. _"All night long..."_ As he fell into Koenma's chest and turning his chin, his neck became the perfect landing pad for his lips.

"Do you want to know the thread-count?"

Kurama surrendered to the hands hooking round his wrists. _"What is it...?"_ Koenma made sure to be close enough that the breath of his words tickled Kurama's ear.

"Eight-hundred and fifty..."

"Eiiihheiight-hundred–?!" Kurama sputtered before his voice collapsed in his throat. In part because that was a highly impressive thread count, and also because Koenma's fingers had just jammed straight down his ass-crack.

"You wanted to know the payment for that Venetian silk?!"

"I have a fine idea!" Kurama told him, fumbling with his zipper.

In no time, all the mirrors in that closet were fogged, and the smooth jazz over the intercom was overrun with sated moans. Sometimes you could hear a belting saxophone; other times, a wailing fox. After all that domineering advertisement, Koenma was the one squealing like a bitch on the bear-skin rug, while Kurama pumped and threw Herschey's kisses on him.

They had unknowingly made so much racket, Botan could hear them while she was picking out her potato chips. And anyway, they hadn't closed the snack machine properly, and from all the way back there it didn't quite sound like sex, so she went to investigate.

It looked like Kurama had naked football-tackled him. Melted chocolate was everywhere, but she couldn't actually tell it was chocolate anymore. It took every ounce of will power not to scream like she had wandered into a murder scene. She backtracked out, even closed the snack machine door for them. They were none the wiser that she had been there at all, and she would never speak of it.

"Kurama... you must promise me... that my closet will always be a rumor. That everything that happens here will _stay_ here," Koenma plead to his partner in lust. Kurama slowly lifted up his head and stared at him dreamily.

"It's too good a deal to share with anyone else. I want it all. I want all of it to be mine," he breathed into his ear, although now, instead of sensual, it just seemed irritating. Koenma flinched a little and gained some strength back in his voice.

"You can't have all of it. It's _mine._ Now take your Venetian silk and get the fuck off me."


	2. Chapter 2 - Hiei

Koenma's Closet

A YYH crack-fic series by Yours Truly  
Chapter 2: Hiei

There really wasn't anything stupider in Human World than the holidays, in Hiei's opinion. The crap weather that everybody ignored; the baseless, shit-eating euphoria of his friends; Kurama's moodiness? Ugh, shoot him now. These were especially annoying circumstances once he'd been roped into attending Genkai's Christmas party.

Yukina had apparently asked if he was going, and she seemed to be insisting to anyone who'd listen that they convince him to, if he wasn't already. This was an incredulous rumor that initially didn't sway him, but then she asked him directly and a "yes" just sort of fell out of his mouth.

"Well, then, you're going to do Secret Santa," Kurama told him. Before he could even say he didn't know what that was, a scrap of paper with Yukina's name was balanced delicately in the center of his chapped little hand. " _Well great. Now, I not only must go, but I must make her happy with material items?!"_

He was desperate enough to eavesdrop. I mean, moreso than usual, and on people that would otherwise make him want to hack off his own ears. "I don't know, some stone or jewel or something," his gravelly voice buzzed through the glass. "It can heal anything, even gets rid of period cramps. She was telling my sis about it and she said she seemed like super into it." Up until then, he had felt so undignified hanging around outside Kuwabara's bedroom window, but this was the tip he needed. "Ugh, but it's legendary. Lost. Somewhere in Makai. Ugh, I guess I could just get her some nice soap."

" _Yes, that's right. You get her soap,_ " he hissed. _"Thinks he's gonna out-Santa me? Pah!"_

* * *

He would find this jewel. And at the party, Yukina would open her gift from him and turn to jelly in front of everyone, and he would cackle, because usually he was clueless about how to please her, but this time he had done something right!

"Hiei, I don't think that's going to happen," Kurama told him, just before he dragged his tongue along the rim of his ice cream cone. He was dragging his spirits, too.

"Why the hell not?!" They were sitting on a bench at a park where Hiei had temporarily taken up residence, but he clearly didn't care at all who was listening. Kurama glanced around before he answered closer to his ear.

"I know the jewel she was talking about. It was seized by authorities in the Spirit World a long time ago and has a comparatively darker history than she's made out, or perhaps is even aware."

"Fine by me. Where can I steal it from?"

"In all likelihood, Koenma."

"Great. I've always wanted to steal from him again." Kurama shot him a side-long glance before licking tentatively. "Are you _ever_ going to finish that?" He would have tried snatching up Kurama's ice cream by now but it was raspberry swirl. Fuck that shit.

"You're not stealing from Koenma." Hiei squished up his lips.

"You were _all_ about it _last_ time!"

"Last time I thought I'd be dead before I ever had to face the repercussions," Kurama admitted dryly. To his chagrin, another argument looked to be caught on Hiei's tongue. "If you even attempt to break into one of his vaults, I will personally come after you, and not to give you a measly parole sentence." Hiei's shoulders slumped. _What a killjoy._

* * *

Only a night later, he was kicking back on a tree branch, brooding and all that, when Koenma's figure appeared floating in front of him. As he announced himself, Hiei almost fell out of the tree.

"A little birdie told me you're looking for something I'm _certain_ is in my possession." A little birdie?! Oh right, it was the season of gossip too.

"And you came to boast about it," Hiei concluded.

"I _came_ to say I'm not attached to the thing, and maybe, just _maybe_ , I'd be willing to negotiate if you come by during my _usual hours~~~_!" A tense silence followed. This news should have pleased him, he was aware, but the way Koenma was chirping just didn't ring true.

"Why do you seem so excited about it?"

"I'm not excited. What makes you think I'm excited about anything? Perhaps I'm just swayed by the holiday spirit, hm? Should I expect you or not?"

He grumbled a yes, then promptly went to harass Kurama for interfering.

* * *

Try as he may to forget that he hated this place, he was reminded at every turn. It was nothing but a bustle of bureaucratic circle-jerking atop a cloud in the middle of nowhere. With a baby in charge. It always smelled like powder and sweat, and it was bright enough to induce migraines. That balloon-hatted twerp was obviously used to this as he welcomed him.

"Ahhh, Hiei, you've come at the perfect time. I'm about to take my lunch hour." He hopped out of his chair and was almost all the way out of the room before he realized his surly visitor was still hovering near his desk. "I don't have the thing up here, silly. Walk with me, talk with me," he told him, swishing his hand and carrying on, nose high. Hiei flashed his eyes practically to the top of his head before he followed.

There was plenty of walking, but talking? Hmmmph. Hiei would rather complain in his thoughts that it took so many stairs, elevators, and halls to reach Koenma's lunch spot. "Now, Hiei, I'm going to show you a very special place that few have ever seen. Considering your criminal status, I almost had the nerve to ask that you close your eyes before we enter, but... you'd probably just spy with your Jagan anyway. So I'm trusting you, you hear?!"

He did not know what to make of it. So he just didn't answer.

"Hmph, and anyway, I haven't had visitors in a while..." Koenma trailed. "Beggers can't be choosers."

" _I could say the same!"_ He thought, with his brow beginning to bundle. By now, the true expanse of this cotton candy palace was grinding on his nerves more than it was impressing him. With exasperation, he searched for some indication of the floor they were on. "Ugh. _Where_ are you taking me?" He finally grated.

"Relax. It's just around the corner."

Luckily, Koenma wasn't lying, but it seemed like he was at first sight. Hiei was nonplussed to find that they turned the corner of a long hall and came face to face with a snack machine beside a potted plant. The glare he was fixing on the back of his head didn't stop Koenma from approaching the machine with confidence and regality, as if there was nothing funny about it. "Don't tell me it's in there!" Hiei snarled.

Koenma dug through his pocket. Once he'd shot a smug smile over his shoulder, he poked a key into a tiny, camouflaged keyhole, waited for a "click", and guided the whole front of the machine aside like an old, clunky door. Even from the hall, Hiei could smell burning wax and something unbearably sweet inside, but he just crossed his arms and looked away. When Koenma cleared his throat to no effect, he puffed up and shouted: "I'M INVITING YOU INSIDE!"

"No, thank you. Go and get what I came for and stop wasting my time."

Koenma tilted his chin down to his chest and frowned so deeply he resembled a frog having truly murderous thoughts. The following came rumbling from the folds in his chin: "May I remind you that you came here _to negotiate_. And, so far, you are _not_ doing it very well..."

Hiei seemed unswayed from his petulance, but as the tense seconds dragged on, he found he'd rather force himself to enter this bizarre chamber than prolong a stalemate. " _There better be food in there,_ " he thought.

He supposed if one were some vapid aristocrat that what was inside would be appealing. There was tacky-as-shit damask wallpaper and candelabras galore. The room housed Koenma's clothes, rack by rack by rack, almost like a shrine to them. They were even on display with back-lights. Some were fitted onto glass mannequins conspicuously shaped and gesturing like him.

Hiei caught his tired, sleep-deprived visage in the mirror ceiling and frowned at himself. He couldn't believe he was here. When he first heard about the jewel, he fantasized about adventure. He was ready to fight for it, deserve it. Drag his ass across the barren wastelands of Makai. Play hopscotch through cobwebs and booby traps. And hell, maybe cut off his own arm again. Cutting off Koenma's briefly brought a smile to his face.

"Please. Have some," he heard. He went back to frowning when he saw that Koenma had scaled a low-lying rack with a table on top decorated with candies. "Salted caramel? Chocolate-cherry truffel?" Koenma knelt doggy-style and leaned toward Hiei with the shiny wrapped sweets in his hands. Just to be a shit, Hiei swiped for something else without looking and shoved it in his mouth. In short time, his tastebuds were having an orgasm, and the signs of it that poked through his stubborn veneer were all too clear to his host. "You can have as _much_ as you like. I'm _never_ in short supply." Swift as a praying mantis, Hiei struck his hand for another, then another. "Such fast hands, my friend."

"We'r-not-frens," Hiei answered, muffled by a mouth full of truffel mush.

A condescending "tsk" passed Koenma's lips. "Hmph, well. That's the beauty of a deal. We don't have to be."

He smiled with his eyes half closed, then glided down the side of the rack like it was a fireman's pole. Hiei's lack of enthusiasm was not going to keep him from approaching the drawer where the jewel was stashed and wafting his hand in suspense over the delicate silver latch.

Inside was nothing of particular charm. It was kind of gross looking, actually, like it had absorbed all of the ailments it had ever treated and was now fogged with auras of despair. It was like if opal got flushed down the toilet, maybe. Koenma's eyebrow kept twitching provocatively while a wave of raw confusion washed over Hiei, about why Yukina would _ever_ want this. She was a fine healer. She wouldn't _wear_ it, would she? He popped another caramel in his mouth before he took out a sticky from his cloak with Kurama's bank account number on it. "How much do you want?"

"A very generous payment, you can imagine."

" _No skin off_ _ **my**_ _nose,"_ he thought, scribbling all the preliminary details onto a check.

"An item this precious... I'd say twenty spankings will do it."

Hiei looked up. "What?!"

"Twenty spankings?"

"What the fuck kind of currency is that?"

"The only currency that makes a difference, _here._ Should I find you a chair?"

"Are you _out of your mind?_ I'm not going to _spank_ you." For a moment, Koenma pursed his lips in frustration, but he knew he had all the ammo to make this happen.

"Don't look so surprised, Hiei. You think I don't know... your... _full..._ history?" Every word was followed by a jiggle of his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do."

" _No._ I really don't."

"Hmph. I thought a demon like you would want to flaunt it around if you were a spankmaster."

"What did you call me?"

"A spankmaster," he repeated, matter-of-factly. Hiei's eye began to twitch. "Sheesh, everyone thinks they have to be so prudish around me." With something resembling zeal, Koenma went skittering to find a stool tucked away in an alcove full of hats. It was evidently a heavy stool, as he heaved the weight of his body against it, only to have it screech across the wood floor several feet at a time.

"I've – _ugh!_ – been around the block, Hiei. Enough blocks to know – _ugghh!_ – there's a fair amount of trades in the underworld, some only a few per millenium have the discipline to learn. I also know about a rumored dimension where spanking is all there is, where there is _nothing_ but hands spanking each other. As their language of love, their language of war!" Koenma rose both his hands above his head. "And everything in between." He clapped them together and laced his fingers. "Any master had to have been there to truly be fluent." By now, all of Hiei's candy wrappers had crumpled into balls inside his fists. Because Koenma enjoyed the torture of making him rigid, Hiei began to drag his feet forward, entranced by his desire to strangle him. Koenma wasn't afraid. He climbed up the stool and stood on his tie-toes.

"I'd read things about you when you first stole from that vault and caused me all that trouble... Things that didn't add up. I remember you clutching your arm during my sentencing." He pointed to the one that wasn't bandaged. "Yes, that one. The one hiding in plain sight, its ordeals forever understated. But when you mastered the dragon, I knew you were reaching into other dimensions. Summoning dragons with one hand... fluent in a sensual _-uh_ , tongue _-uh_ lost to the ages _with the other..._ "

They were almost bumping noses when Hiei erupted. "ALRIGHT, so it's true! But I'm _not_ spanking you!"

"Then you _won't_ get the jewel."

"Oh, come on!"

" _You_ come on! I've been waiting centuries for a spankmaster!"

"Wait a few more. I'm not doing it." The outrage of having not gotten his way flushed a deep hue of pink in and out of Koenma's cheeks before he grew smug again. He even climbed off the stool and went to powder his nose at the nearest vanity.

"Oh, I see. You've lost your touch," he concluded. Hiei crossed his arms and didn't bother to look at him.

"I'll let you think that."

"No one to practice on, huh?"

"That is _none_ of your business."

"What a shame. So young and already past your prime."

"WOULD YOU **SHUT UP** ALREADY?!" It was hard to admit this to someone who was now combing their delicate head of hair with a fine-toothed baby comb, but Hiei was left with no choice. He looked away dramatically. "I made a promise to someone... that I'd never spank anyone but them." All in a second, Koenma whipped around with his hands on his hips.

"Oh, pfffff! You mean to tell me that, right now, the only thing between your hand and my ass is a _promise_? What are promises in here, anyway?! You need the jewel for someone special, and besides: why would I admit to anyone I brought an ashy-cheeked urchin in here to man-handle me?" It was true: Koenma would never stand by his shit, and this was shit so lowly even Hiei wasn't expecting it. Calling him an urchin had sort of hurt his feelings, though.

Koenma was not in the mood to let him pout over what a shameful dilemma he was in for long. He took out his pocket watch and tapped the glass with a grumble: "my lunch hour is just about up and you've wasted almost all of it. I'm surprised at you, Hiei. Everyone who's ever had the honor of being in this room, and offered the indulgences they'd long been seeking, has paid in spankings... _no question!_ But if you're too much of a pussy to follow suit-"

"What?! Never! BEND OVER."

The moment he dropped his drawers, he was whipped onto Hiei's knee and swallowed by his heart's desire. The pounding of his palms against his rump was unimaginably rhythmic and poetic. Koenma felt like an instrument of flesh that Hiei played vigorously. If it had been caught in slow motion, surely his cheeks must have been morphing shapes like molton wax in a lava lamp.

Before long, Hiei's hand was _glowing from impact!_ He had easily passed twenty slaps but fell into such a frenzy he never stopped. Just as the dragon claimed him, so too did the Spirit of Spanking bare this unknown concierto from his soul.

Koenma could only gasp in sentence fragments that he wanted the butt-plug stowed away in a nearby drawer. When Hiei got the jist of it, he threw the tot to the floor and yanked off his belt in one swift motion. All in an instant, his trousers hit his ankles and Koenma was kneeling in his shadow. Choking on his breath, Koenma turned to gaze into his glowing, red eyes, knowing very well he was at his mercy. Then he beheld his cock. It was hanging like a rifle pouch halfway down his knees.

"HOLY SHIT," he screamed.

"Yeah. That's what they _all_ say," Hiei growled back, before he repeatedly cock-slapped him to his heart's content. Only when Koenma was begging for it did he plunge it deep into his ass.

As fate would have it, "I Wanna Know What Love Is" blasted from the intercom. Koenma was making sounds he'd never heard from himself before, speaking strange words of lust, making marriage proposals – even with half his face smooshed into the rug. He let his lover turn him over and over like a well-done pancake on a hot stove, until the burning surge of his love-syrup ignited his prostate and set it off like a firework.

Meanwhile, all Hiei could think was that he was glad he'd finally conquered this brat, more or less.

Not ten seconds after he climaxed, Hiei stood up to dress. He scooped up the jewel. Then he threw a short glance at Koenma, who'd pulled part of the rug over himself like a blanket and was taking imaginary puffs at a candy cigarette. He was closing his eyes in afterglow, so he didn't much notice Hiei had swiped up the box beside him and left.

Outside of the closet, Botan was ramming the snack machine, trying to get her Corn Nuts unstuck from the guard. Just as she really threw her weight into it, the machine swung open and smacked her in the face. Dumbstruck, she held her nose and watched Hiei hop gracefully to the ground. He nibbled his own cigarette and passed her like nothing abnormal had happened before finding his way out.


End file.
